Table For Two
by BatThing
Summary: Tim has been injured, and Barb does what she can. But sometimes you need to confide in those who seem the farthest from help. Even if it scares you to death.


"You, Timothy Drake, have to be the World's largest moron. What were you thinking not telling anyone about this? What, did you expect it to just somehow disappear and go away? I know you can't be that stupid. So how about telling me why the hell you didn't tell them about it?!"  
  
"Back off Barb, I have my reasons."  
  
"You also have your bull shit pride."  
  
" Call it what you want. I know what I am doing here. I don't need your help."  
  
"You don't need it or you don't want it? You might think I'll fall for your guilt trips, but I don't do that anymore. I know you well enough to know when you are seeking help and seeking attention."  
  
"So you are saying this is for attention? You really have your head in the wrong place! You think," he tossed his hand in the air, stretching it before her face. It was dry and bleeding rather steadily. "You think that this is for show?"  
  
"I can't be sure, why didn't you tell them that you were hurt? Why did you keep this a secret? I don't understand you at all! What if this is really serious and needs immediate treatment? If you don't tell I will."  
  
"I didn't tell you so you would lecture me," His eyes lowered, and what he said next was almost a whisper. It was desperate. "I told you so you could help."  
  
"I am helping you in a way that you can't help yourself." Barbara shook her head in annoyance and almost pain. She slowly turned her gaze and met Tim's eyes. "You aren't doing this for attention, and I don't know why you are doing this."  
  
Now it was Tim's turn to meet Barbara's glance. He dropped his shoulders and gave a defeated look. It seemed that Barb was starting to feel sorry for him. "I think you do. I think that you really know why I am refusing to tell him."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Barbara shook her head. "Him, you mean Bruce? I think I do know. I think that you just can't get along because. You. Don't. Try. You could at least lighten up when you around him instead of giving one word answers and then slinking off."  
  
"He forces my actions on me. I tried... besides...you're just missing the point."  
  
"YOU are missing the point!"  
  
Tim stood slightly dumbfounded. "You aren't even hearing what my point is. Meanwhile I am getting every ounce of yours embedded in my head!"  
  
"So it is having an impact."  
  
"Not in the way you might enjoy."  
  
Sliding down, Barbara dropped to the bed. She huffed slightly and then shrugged, as if she didn't care. "Let me see your hand then, I'll see if I can help..." She blinked. "In the way you want me to."  
  
Tim tenderly offered his hand and watched as she took it. "I don't think she would do anything like... deadly to me. I mean her and Bruce are like... freakin' man and wife!"  
  
Barbara grumbled at this comment. Tim's hand was raw and bloody. Just by touching it blood was trickling onto her fingertips. The smell was something that she knew from a long time ago. Rotting flesh. Shaking her head she grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the skin. "How long have you had it?"  
  
"Two days, it just gets bad when I try to... get it wet or clean it. It's almost as if it were a really, erk, bad rash."  
  
"Selina, is a bitch, you can't underestimate her just like that. She doesn't care about you, she wants Bruce, and you can bring the heat... and Catwoman likes them hot."  
  
Tim jerked his hand away. "So, what do you propose I do?"  
  
"Tell Bruce about it and get the help you need. I can't help you with that kind of wound."  
  
Barbara smiled and patted the bed.  
  
Sitting down Tim returned the grin, yet it faded away rather rapidly. The sound of a car was brought to his attention and he sighed. "He'll see it and ask. I considered telling him that I was wearing latex gloves and they dried the skin a little too much. Think it'll fly?"  
  
"You can't be to sure, maybe he'll think it was an allergic reaction or something." She got to her feet and winked lovingly. "You should tell him, even if he smoothers you for it. It's better than waiting till it's the last moment and then going through more heck."  
  
Tim nodded. "Right, will consider."  
  
"I'll bet, goodnight, and do what's right."  
  
"Dear lord, you are sounding like a saint."  
  
"Me? No, I'm the devil's child, bear in mind." Barbara giggled and left his room with a little happiness.  
  
Tim smiled after her but said nothing in return to her comment. His hand was actually getting to him and he refused to show it while she was around. Yet when he heard her door slam he was tearing at the cloth and soaking it under water, cursing rapidly.  
  
"Barbara, where is Alfred?"  
  
Tim turned around at the voice from the hall. He could hear Barbara yell something and then Bruce answer her.  
  
"I haven't a clue... I came over to use the Batcave... and, um, visit with Tim."  
  
"Tim is here?"  
  
Tim turned the water off and dried his hand, listening to the conversation.  
  
Barbara was speaking again, this time irritated. "Yes, I should be heading out now, I need to get home before it gets to late."  
  
Bruce grunted, "Goodnight," and then there was a knock on Tim's door.  
  
Tossing the towel aside, Tim nodded. "Come in."  
  
"Timothy, when did you get home?"  
  
It was Bruce and Tim fumbled for his toothbrush. How long ago had be gotten back? "Not sure, maybe an hour or so... why?"  
  
"Just wondering, have you seen Alfred?"  
  
Tim considered and then poked his head out of the bathroom. "Alfred? No... I couldn't say I did."  
  
Bruce nodded and then started to leave the room and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily for him he hadn't seen Tim. Then there was a small grunt. "Timothy..."  
  
Tim felt his stomach flip flop at that voice.  
  
"Um, yeah?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Tim was in wonder Bruce hadn't even seen him. Then it clicked, the tissue Barbra had used for his hand. "Oh that..."  
  
Bruce was obviously a little ticked. "Yeah, that. What happened?"  
  
"Nothing really... nothing really bad. Or anything bad."  
  
"Show. Me. Now."  
  
Tim licked his lips and glanced at the sink. "Um, well... I-I don't think that I know what happened really."  
  
Bruce was now in the bathroom and looking at Tim as if he were and idiot. "Where? Who? And How?"  
  
"You forgot when," Barbara called from the distant.  
  
"Jerk," Tim hissed under his breath. "I thought she was going home."  
  
"What does she mean by 'when'?"  
  
"She means nothing, I hurt my hand two days ago, and it's just now getting bad."  
  
Bruce watched as the hand was shown to him and recoiled slightly. "Two days? How?"  
  
Tim cleared his throat. Scared of the reaction Bruce gave, he answered, "Selina...was at it with her claws, it was a small cut and I knew she had something on the ends of her claws. But I saw nothing when I washed it out so I was quiet. Then when I woke up it was there."  
  
"So you just didn't plan to tell me? My god, look at your hand Tim. Are you so blunt to think that it wasn't anything harmful?" Bruce signaled for the hand impatiently. "Let me see it."  
  
Tim wiped it on the back of his pants, hoping that it wouldn't look as bad. He then gingerly offered the hand. "It doesn't hurt really, at least not that bad."  
  
Bruce grunted in disbelief. He picked up a wet washcloth lying on the counter and wrapped the hand in it. And then what he did next Tim couldn't believe. Bruce simply stared at the boy in front of him. "We will see about that."  
  
"I can hold my own hand, you can let go."  
  
"I want to feel if it starts shaking... to prove a small point."  
  
"I said it wasn't bad."  
  
"You said that the last time you broke three ribs and bruised four others. I don't fall for your cheap excuses anymore. You lie for some inhuman reason and now I don't know what to think. You could be dying and say you feel like an angel. So with that in mind we can just wait a few minutes to see. You may indeed be right, but you can't control your hand as well as your words and expression."  
  
"No Bruce," Tim whimpered pitifully. "Stop it." It was a pitiful argument and one that  
  
Bruce didn't even bother to reply to.  
  
Tim looked at the floor and tried to come up with some thing that would distract the man.  
  
He knew what Bruce was up to. His hand couldn't be controlled and it only took a few seconds to start having stress spasms.  
  
"What about Alfred?"  
  
"He's fine."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Alfred had left on his own business many a times without my permission. I don't feel the need to worry about him just yet... Would you mind looking at me instead of the floor?"  
  
Tim lifted his head and looked at Bruce's forehead. He could feel his hand start to break out and began to worry. It was starting to have spasms.  
  
Bruce's eyes flickered down to the hand and Tim followed his lead. The sight was worse due to the water. It was disgusting as it simply shook without any effort.  
  
"Enough," Bruce said removing the cloth and looking once more at the hand. "Sorry, I can't trust your word."  
  
Tim looked anywhere but those eyes. "Listen, Bruce, I don't mean to be so stupid, but I really just don't want to look stupid. Um, so I kind of try and look the best I can."  
  
Bruce almost smiled, as he looked the boy straight in the eyes. "Tim, if I ever do feel a need to hold you back from being 'Robin' it won't be from your mistakes in learning. It will be from my mistakes in teaching. So try and think about it that way. I won't kill you because you are hurt. I don't know where you get those ideas."  
  
Tim nodded.  
  
"Anything else you need to tell me? Any other wound that you are hiding?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I hope you are right..." Bruce started for the door, then stopped and turned around. He scratched the back of his neck and groan slightly. "Listen, I don't like to be the 'bad guy'. But Tim, I am serious about not being able to believe you anymore. And that's really sad. It's sad because we have no trust for each other, obviously."  
  
Tim noticed that Alfred hadn't swept his floor as he avoided Bruce.  
  
"I suppose I should just get straight to the point, huh?" The man paused and waited for some sort of feedback to indicate that his boy was listening.  
  
There was an awkward silence and Tim opened his mouth. He met Bruce's glance and then clenched his teeth together. He nodded once and rolled his eyes.  
  
"You are on a thin line with me as it is. If I find out that you are hiding anything more, well, lets just say you will have a really hard time earning my trust...Tim, look at me."  
  
Tim glared up at the man. He grinded his teeth together in pure anger, almost hate. And all he could think was: 'Bruce is being totally unfair with me.'  
  
"I'm not doing this to make you mad, I am doing to so you won't end up hurting yourself to a point beyond return. I don't enjoy treating you like this, but you are making me." He shook his head with a smile. "Think about it."  
  
"Sure... right."  
  
"Good, now lets treat that hand as best we can, follow me." 


End file.
